


The Third's Gospel

by This_Is_A_New_Low



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangels, But for right now we just have normal fanfic shame, Classic Winchester Drama, It's most likely gonna get smutty, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Multi, heads up I curse a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-08 01:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15232236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Is_A_New_Low/pseuds/This_Is_A_New_Low
Summary: As a writer who enjoys giving very little away, no. I'm greedy and the title is enough. Okay, fine, everyone's gonna show up in a slightly canon way and I'm bringing back Crowley. I'm not sure when; I'm not sure how; but I'm bringing that gangsta back. ALSO, this is my odd homage to the dirty done to the poor SPN female characters. Will probably develop into a smutty AF M/M from two canon characters (cause that makes sense) but for now, let's just get to know each other, okay?





	1. Setting Up

**Author's Note:**

> Ooooh god, Chuck, whoever is listening. I vowed never to write fanfiction again after a very cringe-worthy time during my early tweens. But like my Lenten sobriety, diet, exercise regiment, vitamin course, and everything else healthy I've tried, that shit has fallen off the wagon so here we go, buttercups. Buckle the fuck up cause if I go through with this (and trust me, the eight hours of combined research about archangel lore alone pretty much guarantees I will), this ride is gonna get weird, fast.

“I’m just sayin’; one bottle of soap should get the job done.” Dean tilted his head in way to show he really wasn’t arguing the point but the four-step process of shampoo, conditioner, exfoliant, and body wash, and thus a four-bottle grouping, Sam had amassed in the showers was three too many for Dean to consider normal. Then again, Dean was the sort of man who would brush his teeth with his three-in-one hair and body wash if it was also mint flavored.

“Says the guy with three hair gels.” Sam quipped back. He knew Dean's choppy yet carefully crafted crew cut was a low blow but one worth it as he watched his older brother roll his eyes and huff in defeat.

It had been a rough week; The Winchester brothers had just returned to their bunker after a three-day jinn hunt that was only supposed to be an overnight trip. The stress of trying to save an unknowing world had taken a toll on the boys and their hunting focus had paid the price. Dean couldn’t count the bruises and Sam walked with a slight sway thanks to the quick stitches he gave himself in the dim light of the Impala. This was their world, though. Just theirs, and now that they could confirm both of them would still be standing tomorrow, with no debts owed and the world not ending at this precise moment, they felt they had earned the right to relax for a short while and do nothing more than ruffle one another’s feathers about who had the more ridiculous self-care routine. 

And so there they sat, debating, laughing, drinking, reminiscing, wondering about new friends and old friends; things that feel so simple and yet their simplicity was gold to these tired souls. They wondered about the angel with piercing blue eyes and the demon with a funny name. They wondered about the retirement they were never going to seriously consider. They wondered about how there were really only two beers left in the fridge?! The brothers sank their laughing smiles into soft smirks at the funny turn their lives kept taking but resolved to just call it another night and headed towards their bedrooms, where exhaustion guaranteed a peaceful night of much needed sleep. 

.....

Until they heard a scream from outside the bunker entrance.


	2. Hardly Surprised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters hardly have any twists left to take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, what took me an extra two days was picking a name.

To be fair, the scream was more of a yell; an extremely distressed and notably angry yell. 

“WINCHESTERS! OPEN the FUCKING fuck UP!”

The anger in the voice put the brothers on alert but the voice being unknown pushed them into high guard. Dean looked at Sam and motioned with his eyes towards Sam’s waist. “Strap up.” And Sam complied. As they neared the front entrance, Sam swerved off and to the garage. One behind and one in front of whatever was standing at the door. As Sam moved with prey-like stealth through the bay to the outside face of the door, Dean walked firmly in his predatory step, ready to meet what lay beyond the metal wall. 

Sam was first to reach the voice’s owner and for a moment he was somewhat surprised. A rather frantic girl, no more than perhaps 5’6, about 145 lbs, and absolutely not exceeding twenty years old, tops, stood there banging away at the metal as though her life might actually depend on it. He was amused that the deep, violent bellows were genuinely hers. Her wrist seemed to be getting tired as the spaces between her pounds lengthened but her head suddenly turned in a way that suggested despite Sam’s silence and her own noise, she had managed to hear his heart beating. 

“I know you’re there.” Her volume had dropped but her bite in her tone had bared its teeth. “Just come out already and let’s do this.” She withdrew two daggers from her belt. 

Sam was taken back for a moment. Her left knife was an angel blade and the right was a demon blade. How and why flashed across Sam’s mind but the ache from his jinn injury reminded him to stay focused in the situation. He slowly stepped forward, gun raised and aimed in the event it might be needed and decide to deescalate the situation.

“Who are you?” He barked, hoping the answer she would answer more of a what and say human. Instead, he got another question as an answer.

“Sam?” Another stranger that knew his name was hardly a surprise to him anymore but rarely a good omen. None the less, Sam had more patience than his brother and remained calm.

“I’ll ask again; Who. Are. You?” Sam noticed she had lowered her daggers and he wasn’t sure if it because she wasn’t actually here to kill them or if she felt outpowered. Her stance had softened as though she was trying to make herself look weaker. He didn’t trust it. 

“I’m the girl who is being chased by a god damn archangel and I’ve run out of options for safety so now I’m here and if we don’t get inside that bunker right fucking now, we’re gonna be angel dust and not that weird psychedelic 1970’s kind. Got it?!” An attacking archangel likely meant Michael was on the way; no one would refer to Lucifer so kindly and Gabriel was not the fighting type, as the body double count continued to show. At any rate, he didn’t want to find out. The panic and speed of her words tumbled out and her desperation felt decidedly real, so Sam did the sensible thing and took her hostage. 

“Slide the blades over and raise your hands up.” To his relief, she did so with only a small amount of hesitation. He motioned for her to turn around quickly as he heard rustles coming through the bushes. 

“Dean open up! It’s all clear!” Sam shouted with a haste growing in his voice. The air felt cold on his arms or just maybe the goosebumps were from an angel battle he didn’t feel up to having. 

Dean was ready to fight and hearing Sam yell with no sound of gunfire prior made Dean feel pretty sure that this meant Sam was being held hostage. He raised his gun upward, leveled with his cheek and stood opposite the direction of the door’s swing, hoping to knock out the captor from behind as they entered with Sammy. He opened the door and waited calmly. The two figures entered quickly and Dean acted quicker to take out the giant oaf with a gun.

“Oh shit!...Sammy?” Dean was going to pay for this when Sam woke up. The girl Sam had apparently holding hostage was kneeling beside his gashed head.

“WHAT the HELL, Dean?!” She had taken off her flannel, surprisingly sporting a thermal underneath on a rather warm Fall evening for Kansas and was using it to dab as Sam’s new head wound.

“And you are…?” Typically, you don’t provide basic first-aid to people you were trying to kill so confusion was entering the lesser bright of the Winchester brothers mind.

“Vastly annoyed.” She rolled her eyes as if somehow Dean asking who was in his own home was an inconvenience.

“Cute, kid. C’mon.” Dean responded with a better eye roll. 

“From Chicago.” She threw back at him.

“That’s not what I meant and I’m running out of patience to explain it.” He watched her carefully, gun still aimed, just in case.

“Jesus, would you relax with that thing?! My name’s Charlotte.” She huffed out as she attempted to roll Sam over and began to lift his shoulders. “Grab his legs, would you?”

Dean tucked his gun back in his waist and with an exasperated look, picked up Sam’s legs as they walked him down the stairs to the nearest couch. “Charlotte what?”

She looked at him with a small smirk and the greenest of eyes that just creased slightly underneath from large smiles and doing work that led to seeing far more than anyone should have to. “Wanna take a guess?”

Nope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, that wasn't awful, right? RIGHT?! The next chapter should be more comical. Or at least to me with my weird ass sense of humor.


	3. Yes, Really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little more detail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would not believe the creative surge I had today to turn this damn chapter out

“You like a cousin, or something?” She restrained one of what she expected to be many eye rolls now that she had arrived. 

“Does it matter right now? We have more… oafish problems right now.” She nodded towards Sam, who was beginning to stir. She squatted next to him. “Hey, take it easy. Rambo over here was going for the kill.” 

Dean refused to acknowledge her intended insult. A Rambo comparison was a compliment. 

“Yeah, I got ya pretty good.” He tried to smile, hoping that Sam may just laugh it off with him and then they could properly interrogate the kid standing in the room. Alas, Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“What the hell, Dean?” He tried to sit up, but the pain was sharp at the base of his skull.

“Yeah, you could have given him brain damage and then he would have started to act just like you!” Charlotte declared, clearly at least a little amused by the whole scene. 

“Hey! I am NOT done with you yet! Look man, I thought it was a trap; can we just move on and let the past be the past?” Dean huffed, eyeing the girl for speaking up. “This chick is from Chicago and claims to be a Winchester.”

“What…?” Sam breathed out, not suffering head pain from trying to comprehend Dean’s words. 

It was showtime for Charlotte. She knew she was going to have explain almost everything she could about herself. It actually caused a bit of anxiety in the young hunter’s stomach. She moved to stand across from the two men, trying to make the situation feel like an equal conversation and not as threatening as it felt. 

“My name is Charlotte Winchester, I’m almost eighteen, and I’m from Chicago.” There, that should be enough, right?

“How do we know you’re telling us the truth?” Sam had managed to move himself into a sitting position, attempting to be fully cognizant for the upcoming conversation. Dean had moved to the other half of the couch, but his gun had made a reappearance. The girl began to lift her shirt up. 

“Whoa!” Dean trying to figure out how this would prove she was a Winchester as she groaned.

“Apes…” She hissed out. She stopped right before she reached her bra and turned to expose the right side of her rib cage to the guys; an anti-possession tattoo, not unlike the one the brothers had upon their chests, sat black and flat against her skin. She slowly turned and showed them the left side of her ribs which barred an angel banishment sigil, a few scars close by it from obvious use. “That one was a fun idea. Hurts like a bitch every time I gotta use it.”

“Bein’ a hunter doesn’t prove a thing.” Dean piped up as she lowered her shirt. He wanted to know what her game was already. What did she want from them? She tossed a piece of worn paper their way. Sam caught it and looked at rather official seal and began to read aloud.

“Charlotte Mae Winchester, born October 13th, 2000 at Holy Cross Hospital in Chicago, Illinois, County of Cook, Mother: Marie Andrea Smith, Father: first name is blank, Last name Winchester.” Sam refolded the paper and passed it to Dean in case he wanted a closer inspection. “So, any person with that last name could be your father. What makes you think you’re related to us?” 

Charlotte looked at the ground and took a deep breath. Here it came. “John Winchester would visit me when I was little.” She saw a glimmer of reaction on their faces but didn’t stop to wait for more questions, “At least, until I was about six. John had always told me I was a Winchester, through and through, no matter what happened. Then it was Uncle Bobby up until around the time I was twelve. He told me what happened to John. Then I was sorta on my own, just drifting under the radar. My ma wasn’t exactly a great parent and she croaked when I was fourteen, so I didn’t have much of a choice. I wasn’t about to be put into any type of system. With all the hunter training lessons I had gotten, I was able to handle my own.” It took a moment for all of this to process and Dean was the first to break the silence.

“So, John’s your dad, too?” Dean added another tally to his sibling count.

“God, No!” Subtracted. “He was just like a father to me and told me I was Winchester in blood…and heart. To never forget that. Called me a damn fine hunter on my fifth birthday.” She smiled softly at the memory.

Sam’s stomach brewed a knot at the thought of John Winchester’s A+ parenting and he spoke softly, “You could have at least been a ward of the state, gone to college of some sort, been safe…why hunting?”

“I don’t know. I’m just good at it and don’t start acting like orphans have all these great opportunities. I would have been just another teenage pity case by the time I was phased in and phased out just as quickly.” She waited another moment and Dean’s next question rolled around.

“So, if you’re such primo hunter, why didn’t dad- John bring you out with us?” He inwardly had a hunch. 

“I had a mom, Dean. I had to stay with her and protect her… and myself. She wasn’t always right in the mind and sometimes, especially as I got older, I wouldn’t see her for a day or two at a time. It was a bit of a, shall we say, vulnerable situation. The hunting lessons didn’t really start out as hunting. It was more…survival. Learning how to make myself a sandwich, buy food from the store, making sure I got water and had clothes, and it slowly became how to fend off someone with a knife, how to recognize something that wasn’t human by the time I was four, how to hold a gun when Uncle Bobby started coming around, how to track, what I could use to kill various creatures. John made Uncle Bobby promise to teach me how to be a real hunter if the need ever came around for him to fill John’s place and he kept his word.” She shuffled from foot to foot “Besides that, I’m a girl. IF John would have brought me out when he was still alive, Sam would have been at Stanford and you would have been in your early twenties. Can you imagine you and John trying to take care of a toddler girl while hunting at that time?”

A toddler girl that ultimately turned into the teenage girl she now was. She thought about that for a moment. She wanted an out from this conversation; she was exhausted. She found one. “I need to use the restroom.”

“You can go pee in a second. I’m not quite done with you.” Dean wanted more answers. 

“I’m on my period.” This was her trump card, and yet Dean didn’t flinch; he didn’t even consider letting her go. Sam had to respond for him. 

“Dean! We have to let her go to the bathroom!” Sam got up, still a touch wobbly, and walked her to a restroom. He had heard enough to feel safe with her sleeping here for the night. They could continue the conversation in the morning and keep the bedside guns, pillowside. Just for the night. He directed her to a small guest bathroom and pointed out a nearby room where she could crash. She seemed grateful and told him she would need to get her bag from the car parked outside. Sam had noticed the silver sedan and offered to escort her out and in after she had finished in the restroom. While he waited, he went back to Dean.

“It’s almost dawn. We gotta get some sleep. She’s just a kid. Let’s pick this up after we’re all a bit better rested and can think more clearly. I know you have questions; I definitely still have some, too. We’ll get this straightened out.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be sleeping with your new concussion so feel free to take first watch on her, but I get what you’re saying.” Dean relented not out of desire to do so, but merely because Sam was probably right, “I just want to know what makes her- how is she a Winchester.” 

By this time, Charlotte had wandered her way back to the men and followed Sam back outside quickly to get her bag. As she carried in her small amount of worldly possessions, she wished them both a good night.  
“OH, and you guys may want to do something with that car out front. I boosted it near St. Louis.” She yawned and strolled onward to bed like she hadn’t just admitted to car theft. Dean hunched forward in defeat and wondered where he would gain the energy to go deal with that. Sam looked at Dean after she was out of earshot and smirked.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say she’s probably related to us by way of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit it could have been better. SO MANY UNANSWERED QUESTIONS. But I gotta build that climax for ya. I'm generous like that. But if you wanna be a kind lover, feel free to leave feebackkkk! K THNX BYE.


	4. Eye to Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I got to bring in another person into this chapter and honestly, you're gonna love how in-character I kept said character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just felt like getting some more perspective into the why without some of the how. But you don't have to understand any of this to enjoy tonight's short little labor of love

The following morning, which was really just the same morning progressed about five hours towards dawn, Charlotte rose before the men and decided to take it upon herself to get acquainted with her new surroundings. The place was rather large, after all. After finding a shower room that seemed to be out of hearing range of the occupied bedrooms, she relished the feeling of hot water on her skin for the first time in days and was truly enthused by the array bath products at her disposal. Charlotte ultimately decided that despite her chin length, raggedly edged hair, the Mane ‘n Tail shampoo, which she would bet her last ten bucks on belonging to Sam, would suite her need for both moisture and bounce. She crept back to the room she had slept in, covered in a towel she hoped no one would notice gone. 

Quickly dressing in a pair of lounge shorts and a hoodie from a botanic garden she had once snuck into on a whim, the young girl acknowledged her need for food and went about the hunt for something to fill her stomach. Charlotte tried to reason with herself; she didn’t plan on sticking around here for long, just long enough for those feathered fuzzy butts to get off her scent. There was no reason to treat this place like somewhere she could actually stay so there was no reason to get all giddy about food and hot showers and this luxurious feeling of…safety. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore that this was the first time in years where she felt like she could just breathe. Luckily, she was able to come out of her own head long enough to realize she was passing the kitchen and made a sharp right turn into the room. Spotting a coffee pot, she began to brew up some much-needed energy and threw on some music to get her going for what was sure to be a long day while searching for something edible.

Dean woke to the sound of classic rock which normally would have been a welcomed tune. However, he was acutely aware it wasn’t coming from his own source and sprung up. The girl. He followed the sound and tracked it towards the kitchen. If he could corner her without Sam, maybe he could get some damn answers. He stalked closer to the doorway and observed her quietly for a few moments; she was singing along to “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath…and dancing in jerky movements while pouring creamer? What had her in such a chipper mood? Time to interrupt; Dean loudly entered the kitchen. 

“I see you’re up.” He commented loudly over the music.

“III AAAAMMMM IIIIROOOONNN MAAAAANNN” The girl mimicked as the song changed and giggled. She hopped up to sit on the counter-top and sucked in the hot steam of the coffee, warming her lungs.

“And you’ve seemed to make yourself at home.” There was no tone to his voice, just commenting; none the less, Charlotte’s face dropped some and she got off the counter.

“Yeah, sorry, just trying to wake up is all.” She turned off her music and went to sit at the small table. She slowly sipped on her beverage as Dean poured his own. He didn’t seem to notice the change in her demeanor and came to sit next to her.

“I think you’re aware that we have some shit to talk about.”

“Oh, I was so looking forward to another tete-a-tete with you.” The sarcasm on her face lingered in the form of pursed lips and she tucked her hair behind her ear. God, it was early. Goodbye, breathing. 

“Look, kid, you can’t just stay here and expect us to not question what the hell is going on and why you showed up now.” Dean wasn’t sure what her expectations were but he knew his. 

“Then I won’t. I just have to get my baby out of the garage and I’ll be on my way if that’s how this is gonna roll.” She sat up and stiffened.

“Uhm, excuse me?” Why would she think she would get to touch Baby. Even Sam only got to touch Baby when Dean absolutely needed him to. 

“Well, yeah, it’s mine and I’m not going anywhere without it. I just need a key.” She was baffled by his random assertion that she wouldn’t be able to access her own property.

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE!” Dean was beyond agitation at this point. The audacity of this brat!

“Dean, I’ve been playing it since I was twelve. You’re not holding it hostage!” 

“Wait… playing it?” Dean immediately shrunk down and looked around. He had a bad feeling Dean Asshole Winchester was about to be his new nickname. “Uhm, just follow me…” 

They walked towards the garage door and Dean unlocked it, allowing Charlotte to go in first. She walked on her tiptoes over the cold concrete and glanced at the impala, continuing to the silver sedan Sam had parked last night for her. She opened the backseat door and pulled out a glossy black, electric guitar. It appeared to be in fairly good condition. If Dean had known much about guitars, he would have recognized it as a Schecter Hellraiser and it cost a pretty penny. From the trunk, she took out a hard case and gently laid the instrument rest. Tossing it across her back, she walked over to Dean, satisfied.

“You thought I meant the car, didn’t you?” She studied him for a moment before she kept walking. It’s not as though Dean would ever admit that. Time to pack up early. “See, that’s a problem of yours. Always assuming you know what’s around the corner. Or in last night’s case, the bunker entrance.”

Dean followed behind her, “You clearly want to be here so why don’t you just answer a few questions and we can all eat breakfast sometime before proper breakfast hours end. Whaddya say? Let’s just start with how you even recognized us or found this place.” 

He was matching her pace as they entered her temporary room and she whirled around after placing the guitar case on the bed.  
“ONE, I do NOT want to be here. Again, with the freaking assumptions. This was my absolute last resort. TWO, you’re not even the type of person to care about some etiquette bullshit like -proper breakfast hours- so cut the crap.” Maybe one half of that statement was a lie but she was just as stubborn as Dean. Admittance is the same as weakness. She sunk down onto the bed and Dean sat next to her. Maybe if she showed a little vulnerability, he would let her be so she could avoid this whole explanation for a little longer while she figured out how to explain this whole storm that was her life.

“I just…John… and Bobby…They way they talked about you two. I grew up for a long time thinking you were the knights in shining armor fighting the dragons, ya know? I shouldn’t be out there fighting with you guys; I just needed to protect myself and you guys would take care of the world.” She smiled at the silly notions of childhood as her eyes welled and a small tear started to stream down her cheek. 

“As I grew up though… I began to see how truly cruel it was. I started to hunt and suddenly you guys weren’t knights but the boneheads who started the god damn apocalypse and it wasn’t safe to be a Winchester in the hunting world. I finally understood why they said I shouldn’t look for you. But, I did. I looked for you guys and kept tabs on you so I could AVOID you. If I knew what you both were up to, I could make sure I was ahead of everyone else in the hunting world of falling into your mess. Like that time with the Darkness. Or Lucifer. Or Asmodeus. Or that black virus stuff. Oh! Or that time that you guys went to Hell like back to freaking back!” She was excitedly remembering all the crazy things the men had started and miraculously ended, as well.

“Okay. OK! I get it!” Dean took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He knew the list; she really didn’t have to remind him. Thankfully, the freshly showered Sam came in. 

“Hey, guys we got a visitor that would like to meet Charlotte.” He smiled merely as a way to show Charlotte he hadn’t revealed anything to their guest and leaned against the doorframe. 

“Who?” Dean wasn’t in the mood for cryptic bullshit; not when Lil’ Miss Cryptic Bullshit USA was sitting to the right of him.

“Oh, it’s just-“

“Hello, Castiel” Charlotte interrupted as the fluttering of wings sounded and piercing blue eyes dug into her before the angel made characteristically a short statement.

“You.”

Well, she supposed some things could no longer be avoided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed that. Did you? No? MMMkay, killjoy. I'm still laughing at my own humor so give me a sec to work on something that actually keeps building plot instead of mystery.


	5. Avoid a Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte confronts a less evil angel. She still isn’t thrilled to see him, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I should probably give you a clear idea of where my timeline is. It’s now minus Lucifer’s death, Michael entering Dean, etc.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good ole’ me. So truly charmed to see you again, Frazzle Feathers.” The young girl crossed her arms and went into a defensive, rigid stance from where she was seated on the bed. Castiel continued to stare her over with narrowed eyes and tried to assess the situation silently. Sam eventually interrupted everyone’s thoughts with an obvious question. 

“And you two know each other how?” Sam looked back and forth between the the angel and the teenager; neither cared to answer so Castiel replied with something that would only frustrate Sam and Dean that much more.

“Sam, Dean, I need to speak with Charlotte Mae alone, please.” Before either brother could reply, Castiel touched the girl and they were outside the bunker, standing in blowing, September fallen leaves. The leaves weren’t quite dead but close enough. Charlotte internally felt the same. 

“I hate it when you do that.” She brushed off invisible dust and glared in the angel’s direction. 

“Why are you here? How much do they know?” This was bad; Castiel had learned of the girl and had agreed with the other men who had directed her early life. She was not supposed to be here with Sam and Dean. This could cause a myriad of problems and she knew it! Had not everyone reinforced this?

“Calm down. They know I’m a Winchester, I’ve told them John’s not my father, but they don’t know who is- yet. I’m confident they are wondering, though. They know how I was brought up with hunting, but they haven’t questioned it too much. I’m almost shocked they haven’t put it together by now. Maybe they aren’t that sharp; well, I knew Dean wasn’t but even Sam doesn’t seem to have a single clue to it.” She almost seemed melancholy as she spoke but steeled her jaw and finished her explanation, curtly, “Anyways, I’m here because I’ve got the heavenly host on my tail again. I’ve ran out of options. I’m just so tired from running and I figured I could hang out here for a few days and then drift on when I figure out how to hide away again.” 

“As if they’re going to forget you exist after you leave. You need to get out of here before you become any closer to either of them and you must find a way to not get on their radar, ever again. It’s not safe to be for you to be a Winchester; how many times must it be said for you to understand it?” Castiel was clearly frustrated with her but this was hardly her fault; as if she had control of her parental lineage.

“I don’t like the idea of not being able to track you myself, but I could always…” Castiel looked away, considering the ramifications of the idea. He didn’t bother to finish his last sentence as this was something she had begged for in the past. “You have to swear to leave right after this. Make any excuse you must and get out of here.”

Charlotte bared her chest towards Castiel, “Fucking finally.” Castiel reached out, palm flat against her skin and warded her ribs. She fell to the ground with a growl of pain.

+++++

While Castiel and Charlotte were outside, Sam and Dean sat inside the girl’s temporary room and remained quiet and still for a few moments. Dean decided this was an excellent time to investigate and proceeded to empty her duffel bag on the bed. Sam rolled his eyes but walked over as Dean began to open a small box of photos. The first one was of John holding a smaller version of the feisty Charlotte. She was wearing a jean jacket and a sundress, holding a cap gun. She was staring at something off the camera’s view and smiling in a way that suggested she was laughing. John was looking straight at the camera, beaming. The background was sunny and looked like a carnival. 

The next photo showed her at a slightly older age, maybe about ten, holding a rifle. Her smile was softer and not as childish; they took this as a sign that she was aware of the world of hunters. Bobby was standing off to the side, hands on his hips, smiling proudly toward the makeshift range clearly set in an abandoned warehouse. 

Then came something a little unsettling; Charlotte, about fourteen or fifteen, grinning from ear to ear with blood smeared across her cheek and soaked in her shirt. The smile gave Sam chills and weighed guilt on Dean for having been the wearer of such a visage in the past. There was no joy in her smile, only the boasting of pride from a kill. In her right hand was a female vampire head being held high towards the camera like a trophy; the neck was crudely chopped and the fangs were visible. If they hadn’t know any better, they could have sworn it was a Halloween prop. They could see chunks of muscle and bone hanging from skin that was barely attached to the deceased monster. Normally, Dean would have a made a comment about such a good kill but even he recognized there was something depressing about seeing another person go through the transformation from care-free child to hunter. This was a process they both tried to not think about and here it was, laid out before them.

With a flap of wings, Castiel and Charlotte were back in the room and she didn’t look…well. Perhaps that was an understatement; she looked like she was the floorboard for the running of the bulls, weak and sore. She straightened up when she noticed her personal belongings skewed across the bed. 

“Um…” She was too tired from the rib warding to get aggressive at the moment.

“This isn’t quite what it looks like.” Began Sam.

“Yeah, we were just snooping through your shit.” Finished Dean. Sam squeezed his eyes close as his brother’s blatant lack of tact. He needed to smooth this over. Before he could speak, however, Charlotte came over to her things and began haphazardly tossing them into the bag.

“It’s whatever. I’m just gonna hit the road. Thanks for the bed, guys.” She started for the door and Sam blocked her path. 

“Look, hey, sorry about that. We’re just looking for weapons.” He knew it was a poor excuse but he was still trying to gather his thoughts. He needed to find a way to get her to stay a little longer. Cas seemed pretty bent towards the girl not being here but there was still some mysteries that needed solving. An activity… an activity that Dean would want to do so Cas couldn’t say no… “You look like you haven’t eaten a good meal in months. Let’s… go to the diner! And get some amazing burgers! And pie!” 

Sam looked at Dean who was shifting from foot to foot like a dog being offered bacon. Dean was in. When Sam looked at Charlotte, she looked hesitant but finally agreed. Cas sulked in the corner and grabbed her by the arm as they exited, making her stay in step just far behind enough that Sam and Dean wouldn’t here.

“I couldn’t exactly say no, Castiel. They -invited- me. Was I supposed to be rude?” She gave him a devilish grin. She was genuinely excited at the prospect of food that wouldn’t be scarce and that would be free.

“You know they just want you to come along so they can question you more.” It wasn’t a question. He knew it. She knew it. Any sentient being knew it.

“So, we steer the conversation away from me.” She strode confidently up to the impala and plopped down into the backseat. She had a plan; she always had a plan. Except for right now with escaping from that damn archangel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, on my favorite cat, that there will be a genuine revelation next chapter. Hang in there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s mentions of food, porn, but no foodporn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some characters who uniquely fun to write. One of my favorites is introed in this chapter.

The odd assembly of what looked like an overworked business man, two lumberjacks, and a teenager doing her best impression of Aubrey Plaza walked into the diner during a busy Saturday lunch hour. They settled into a booth towards the back of the place as a perky waitress in her early thirties brought them all waters and eagerly looked over Sam and Dean.

“Oh my goodness, I haven’t see you guys in here in forever; how have you been?” She rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder as she spoke, “And I see your business friend is back in town!” She flashed a brilliant smile at Cas and then settled her eyes on Charlotte Mae. “And who might this little one be?”

Charlotte raised her eyebrow; this bimbo could not be serious. All three men opened their mouths to speak but having yet to decide on a story, Charlotte spoke for herself.

“Oh, I’m the child bride being sold to them. Can I get a bacon cheeseburger, fries, oh! And a chocolate shake! Haven’t eaten in days, obviously.” She smiled cheerfully towards the waitress, who stood with her jaw dropped. Sam covered quickly.

“Oh god! No! NO! She’s… our sister’s kid. Yeah, visiting from Chicago. You know how mouthy city folk can be. Sorry. But, yeah, let’s get that food. Just, you know what, same thing for everyone.” He handed the shaken waitress the menus, “Thanks, Karen.” She perked back up a bit when he said her name and sauntered away. Sam looked across at Charlotte.

“What was that?”

“She was annoying; like something out of _Casa Erotica Fifteen_. Also, that was funny and none of you had a better story for me, yet. So thanks for letting me have that moment, “Uncle” Samuel.” She grinned impishly. 

“Was kinda funny.” Dean muttered. Sam rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the smart mouth and Cas, who would have been sweating bullets if angels would show such an nervous state. 

“Completely blocking out mentally the idea of you seeing porn. So, if I can ask, why’s Michael after you?” Sam inquired. Charlotte and Cas spoke at the same time.

“No, you can not.”  
“Michael isn’t the one after me.” 

Cas shot daggers from his eyes at the girl and groaned, resting his head against the wall in defeat. Charlotte laughed a bit at his reaction.

“What was it that you said to me when I turned fourteen and lied about my age to get that waitress job? “Lying doesn’t make for a proper young lady!” I can’t risk my virtue, Castiel. Surely you understand.” She was on the verge of a laughing fit; ruffling his uptight wings was a favorite pastime of hers. Typically, this resulted in him leaving her alone that much faster. 

Around this time, a busboy came around with their identical meals and dropped them off; Charlotte had a feeling that Karen wouldn’t be coming by much for the rest of the meal. As the humans ate some highly needed protein and the angel nibbled for normalcy’s sake, Dean studied Charlotte, who was four bites into bliss.

“So if you’re not much of a liar and Michael isn’t the angel after you, then who is after you? And why? Because you’re related to us?” Dean was still very much trying to wrap his head around this whole ordeal.

“Delighted you asked. So, the answer is partly and-” Charlotte started but Castiel cut her off.

“That is absolutely not sticking to the plan.” 

“And what was the plan you two had?” Dean took a swig of the shake; the kid had a good palette.

“Well, Castiel wants me to avoid talking to you guys about myself because ideally, I’ll be dropping off your radar soon enough and it’ll be like I was never here.” 

“Sorry, Charlie, if you’re gonna-” This time it was Charlotte who interrupted Dean. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what?”

“Call me Charlie. You can call me Charlotte or Mae or Charlotte Mae but not Charlie.” She picked at her fries.

“That’s ridiculous. It’s just a name. Ya hear that, Sammy? She’s all sensitive about her name!” Dean knocked his brother in the shoulder, playfully, and Sam bristled as Dean spoke. 

“While I know eventually, if she sticks around, she will realize the fight isn’t worth it, I actually agree with her on this one.” Sam smiled at the girl, having dealt with Dean’s inability to understand that not everyone likes nicknames for decades now.

“Oh so I’m just the jackass, then?” Dean looked around, half joking but realizing that no one was going to come to his defense. Sam rubbed the knot on the back of his head, avoiding Dean’s stare. Charlotte half smiled at him, as if she was shocked to see his realization. Castiel stared at the ceiling and was secretly pleased that conversation had turned away from Charlotte. Dean huffed and the rest of the meal divulged in banter. Charlotte blamed the ease of conversation on hunters all having similar interests; she would never admit that it felt even remotely close to being family. She had learned early on from holding a certain last name that family could be a weakness; people would attack you and those around you all because of blood and love and that nonsense. How the brothers refused to give credence to the fatality of family in this life, in this family, was almost admirable in her eyes, if not utterly foolish. 

+++++

After returning to the bunker, everyone had their daily activities to attend to. Charlotte wanted to polish her guitar and Castiel wasn’t done harassing her, yet. Sam retreated to the library to research another small case he had caught onto and Dean went to his room, with a laptop and a purpose. He quietly closed his door and sat down on his bed. Something the girl had said at the table had caught his attention; to the best of Dean’s very thorough knowledge, there was only fourteen _Casa Erotica_ films. He typed in “casa erotica 15” in the search bar and the screen went black. 

“Sam is gonna kick my ass.. c’mon. Work!” Dean furiously tapped at the power button and hit the back of the laptop; if this was another virus, he was going to be pissed. Suddenly, cheesy, deep bass music started to play from the dead laptop’s speakers and the screen began to lighten. The words “Casa Erotica Sixteen” shadowed on the screen for a moment; Dean was perplexed but knew better than to question it by now. A tan, feminine arm opened a door on screen and that son of bitch Gabe was right there on the other side, dressed in a red wine colored blazer and a mustache that was always inquisitive.

_“I’m the hotel manager; there seems to be a report of an insatiable woman in here.”_ The tan arm pulled Gabriel into the room. 

“Sam! SAM!” Dean called out; he needed a second witness to this.

“What’s wrong?” Sam stepped into the room after a short jog from the library and heard the music playing, “Jesus, Dean I told you; I do not need you to show me that stuff!” Dean turned the computer screen towards Sam.

“Oh my god, is that Karen?” The camera was panning over what suspiciously looked like their waitress from the diner. 

“Hey! That this!” Dean stared for a moment longer than necessary before remembering why he had called Sam in here, “It’s a Gabe message.” He pointed to the screen as Gabriel sat facing the camera.

_“Hola, Amigos! Seeing as “Casa Erotica Fifteen” was just searched for from the vicinity of the bunker, I’m gonna take it you guys found lil’ Razzie’s vessel or are currently dealing with that bloated sense of authority archangel, himself. Either way, this cinematic masterpiece has a nice little charm on it to let me know when it’s played. I’m on my way, boys.”_ The screen returned to darkness. 

“Gabe’s dead. How is this even possible? And just who is Razzie?” Sam looked to Dean, searching for an answer. They both jumped a touch when one came from the doorway.

“It’s Raziel” Castiel began to turn away, “But more importantly, Rowena and Charlie called to let you know they’re coming by at the end of the week. And, by the way, Gabriel is never really dead.” With those words, he was gone and the all of the Winchesters under the bunker roof were unanimously and simultaneously annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that? I gave you guys a real thing to add to the plot! I am a gracious God!


End file.
